but they came out from under fitted sheets
unhooked themselves from
steel hangers.
the ironing board that slipped out of a little cupboard
mouthed
lyrics to Michael Jackson
when he was black.
we’re soft
if you grip us under the arm
right below the axilla.
© listentothebabe
Art by xxfromneptune
Oh boy, haunted by the ghost of Michael Jackson…
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Oh, yes. They live in every house, every closet, every cardboard box. The music varies, sometimes isn’t even music, but you got the timing right, for sure.
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This is harrowing. When he was black, haha
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Did everyone else know what axilla meant? Monsters, they’re always under the fitted sheets.
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i liked the word axilla. it sounds vulnerable.
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I agree.
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love this.
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thank you.
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Such strong, vivid imagery in this poem, and the sounds and the rhythm of the lines so lovely. I also keep meaning to tell you how much I love the artwork you pair with your texts.
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Thank you! I love this about social media- that art is so much more accessible. We can take it and use it to create more art.
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Creepy.. I always knew that ironing boards were possessed.
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Haha yes! It is the mother that is the monster and these are places that the mother tends to.
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